Tethering Masks
by Perivates
Summary: What are you supposed to do when you find yourself attracted to two people at once? He loved them both, he couldn't imagine ever loving one and not the other... [KyleStan, StanWendy]


**Tethering Masks**

Stan was not entirely sure that he knew what _love _was. Was it really some invisible thing that tethered one person to another, making them lose hold of rational thought; a feeding tube of pleasure and pain alike? Songs and movies celebrated this strange, elusive concept, its ups and its downs, taking the mysterious unknown and molding it into some cliché formula for happiness.

They always made it seem so simple, didn't they? Protagonist meets Person A and Person B. Ultimately, one will be revealed to be the right person and the other to be wrong, and their lives will fall into place accordingly. For a medium so full of color and life, films sure did have a tendency to paint in a world of blacks and whites.

The real world was so much more complicated than that. People never kept their faces through every scene, always changing costumes and masks and doing something wholly unpredictable of their supposed role. There was no Person A or Person B, only countless people without the accoutrements to give away their underlying identity. Or maybe there was no underlying identity and people were constantly changing, never able to keep one mask for too long. They could fight and cling to that mask, but eventually, they would need to let go if they wanted to adapt, to survive. A new mask would be handed along from the wings, and they'd take on that role when necessary.

But if that was the case, was the search for love nothing but an exercise in masochism? The mask of the lover would eventually slide off, and what then? Move onto another, and another after that; or was it better to simply live in the moment and pretend the inevitable future would never come?

Those painful questions were difficult enough when dealing with one person, but they were made infinitely more so with _another _person added to the equation. Where there should have only been one person wearing the lover's mask, there were two, and neither carried the marking of _right _or _wrong_, only infinite confusion and frustration.

He didn't even know when or how it happened. Maybe there was no when, no where, but only a gradual shift between _best friend _and _love interest_. After all, wasn't it often said that relationships were best when between best friends? But... there was still his _other _love interest.

He'd once posed a hypothetical question to his parents: what are you supposed to do when you find yourself attracted to two people at once?

His father had responded in typical fashion, "Suggest a threesome, especially if they're both really hot." Naturally, his mother had smacked her husband for such crude advice. Her advice had been to either wait it out to see if his feelings would lean one way or the other, or tell them the truth - that he liked them, but they weren't the only one he liked.

He tried to wait it out. For years, he never spoke a word about it. It became habit to ignore the feelings that Kyle's mere proximity stirred in him, to pretend not to see the hints that his best friend kept trying to give for something more. He avoided Wendy as best he could, though school sometimes made that rather difficult. In all that time he never encouraged one or the other, though he longed to do otherwise. But it wouldn't be fair to either of them, and so he maintained his distance.

He'd almost made it. High school was more than halfway through; eventually it would come time for college applications, and then, maybe then, something would tip the scales, though he knew he was bullshitting himself. He loved them both, he couldn't imagine ever loving one and not the other.

Yes, Stan had wanted a change, but not the sort of change that snuck up and attacked him without warning.

It had been a Friday night, after a particularly grueling football game. An impromptu party had been thrown at some classmate's house to celebrate the victory. He'd been drinking, of course, as everyone did at those sorts of things, and having a damn good time at that.

Such a good time, in fact, that he didn't protest much when Kyle dragged him off to a more secluded area of the house.

"Stop pretendin' you never notice anything, asshole."

"Kyle, don't do this..."

"Why not? Fuck, I know you wanna do this! Tell me you don't wanna, Stan, an' I'll believe you. But don't you fuckin' lie to me, dude."

"I..." He couldn't lie, but he also couldn't tell Kyle why he couldn't do it either. "I do, but... we can't."

"Why not?!"

"We just can't!"

"Tell me!"

"Kyle, please, don't..."

"Was I wrong?" His eyes held so much sadness with those words. "Don't you feel the same way?"

"I do, Kyle. I... I love ya, man. But we can't-"

But Kyle had heard what he wanted, and he attacked Stan with lips and hands and a passion that he drowned in, couldn't fight against, didn't _want _to fight against. The alcohol made everything a little distorted, a little clumsy, and for a little while, Stan was able to ignore the guilt gnawing at the back of his fuzzy mind as he and Kyle fell into one another. But he wasn't completely wasted, and every time Kyle's hands drifted too low, Stan had enough wits about him to pull them back upwards.

Eventually they'd gone back to the party, and Kyle had clung to his side for a long while until he wandered off to find a bathroom.

That was when Wendy decided to make her move. She'd come up to Stan from behind the sofa where he'd sprawled out, wrapped her delicate arms around his neck, whispered into his ear. She still loved him, she didn't know why he was avoiding her; didn't he want to get back together?

He tried to pull her off. Guilt had climbed from the backseat and was now screaming in his ears, demanding that he stop this madness. But Wendy's lips were on his ear, and her hair was tickling his face, and it was so damn hard to fight against it.

"Don't you still love me, Stan?" She asked, pleaded for some kind of response.

"Wendy, I... I do, but-"

But she didn't let him finish, just squeezed him tight, told him how happy he made her, and disappeared before he could say another word.

Stan had expected the upcoming days to be awkward and painful, but not as much as they had been. They'd both called him over the weekend, on Saturday afternoon, asking him to come over.

He'd been trying to avoid this sort of thing for years, and now that he was faced with it, he didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could think to do: panic, and tell them he had to go, that he'd call back later.

He needed to make a choice, didn't he? But how was he supposed to make a choice like that? Kyle and Wendy were both so important to him... They deserved the truth. They might hate him for it, but he couldn't lead either of them on like this. It wouldn't be fair to them, or to him.

First he went to Wendy's house. It would be easier to talk to her, since he'd never actually kissed her last night. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but she didn't take it too well.

"I, I don't understand..."

"Wendy, you never even let me finish what I was trying to say last night. I _do _care about you, but..."

"But I'm not the only one?"

She looked so scared and hurt, and her tone was accusatory. Stan wanted to be angry at her for that, but he couldn't, she was right. So all he could do was nod apologetically. "This is really confusing for me, Wends. It's not easy, it's damn near breaking me in two."

And then she had to ask the worst question possible. "Don't you love me more?"

"God _dammit_, Wendy! How do you expect me to answer that? If it were as simple as that, I wouldn't be having this problem!"

But then she grabbed him and kissed him, clinging so desperately to the front of his jacket that he thought his heart might stop. "I don't care who the other person is, she can't have you! We're supposed to be together, right, Stan?" She gave him her most winning smile, but that on top of the kiss only made his stomach drop and flip in knots and if his stomach hadn't been emptied earlier courtesy of his hangover, Stan was sure he would have thrown up just then.

"...Stan?"

"I don't _know_, Wendy."

That smile of hers fell, giving way to the hurt. "Who is it?"

"I can't tell you that." How could he tell her that the other person he loved was his best friend? It would absolutely kill her. "It's better that you don't know."

He left after that, unable to handle any longer her pressing for answers that he couldn't give. On his way to Kyle's, he prayed his best friend would take it better than Wendy did, but he didn't honestly expect it. If he had, he would have been in for a nasty surprise.

"What do you _mean _I'm not the only one?!"

"Were you even listening to me last night?"

"Yeah, and you said you wanted it!"

"I also said we couldn't!" Stan couldn't blame Kyle for being so pissed and upset, but if he'd only listened... Still, he _had _made out with him, so he couldn't say he didn't deserve this sort of reaction.

"...It's _Wendy_, isn't it?" Kyle practically spit the name out. "Fuck, Stan, you haven't dated her in years!"

"I know that, but... but I still care about her."

"How do you know she still cares about you?"

"...She told me so." He knew where this was going, so he tried to head it off. "But Ky, that doesn't mean I don't care about you! If I didn't, well..."

"Then you'd be with her. Yeah." Stan almost smiled at that; he was so glad that at least Kyle understood.

But the smile never had a chance to make it to his lips, because Kyle's made it there first - crushing and demanding, almost frantically fierce. "_She can't have you, Stan_." His eyes were blazing with restrained fury as he spoke in a deadly serious whisper. "She had her chance, and what did she do? She dumped you for Token. You're my _best friend_, you know I'd never leave you like that."

Stan wanted to believe that, wanted to so desperately. But what if something went wrong? What if Kyle decided later that it was wrong of them to get involved like this, and left him after all? It was hard enough losing a lover, but he couldn't handle losing his best friend, he just couldn't. He told Kyle all this as he clung to his shoulders and sobbed into his neck. He was tired, so tired of keeping it all together, he couldn't handle all of this anymore.

Kyle must have taken pity of Stan's broken emotional state. Only that, and sheer confidence in the strength of their bond, could have accounted for the suggestion he made: that Stan date the both of them for a while, until he sorted his feelings out.

"Do you think she'd really go for that?" Stan doubted she would, and Kyle just shrugged.

"She won't be happy about it, that's for sure."

And she wasn't. In fact, she was damn near livid. Not just at the suggestion, but at the knowledge that _Kyle _was the other person Stan loved.

"But he's your best friend! It would be so much _harder _on you if you broke up than-"

"Than when _you _dumped me?"

"That, that's not the point! Stan, you're both _boys!_ It could never..."

"Don't go there, Wendy. Just don't."

She was clearly frustrated and angry, and Stan hated being the cause of that, but... he needed time to think about this, and if Wendy wasn't willing to give him that, he didn't know what he'd do.

Finally, she sighed, and the sound was practically music to Stan's ears. "Fine," she said, grudgingly, "but only as long as we have a few things _straight_." It was impossible not to notice her emphasis on the word, but Stan pretended not to. "You can't have sex, not with _either _of us, not until you make up your mind. I absolutely will not have any part in something like that. And _no _public displays of affection. I don't want anyone else to know about this."

And for a while, no one did. Kyle said he was fine with those rules, and for about a week, he abided by them. But then he started passing more notes to Stan in class than usual; when Wendy noticed this, _she _started passing notes. Their pissing contest escalated into blatant flirting, then hand-holding in the halls, and before Stan could grasp how wildly everything had spun out of control, he found himself pressed against the slick tiled walls of the stall he'd been showering in. Everyone else had gotten changed and left practice long ago.

"We, we can't-" His protest broke off with a moan as Kyle sucked along his jaw line.

"Sure we can," Kyle insisted, the hiss of she shower muting his words as his hands traced further down his boyfriend's sides. "It's only sex if there's penetration."

"Y-You sure?"

Kyle answered with his hands, firm but careful, and all Stan could do was gasp and moan Kyle's name, tangling his hands into damp russet curls and pulling the other's smirking lips in for a fierce kiss.

He loved this about their relationship, that they could be so rough and demanding, never needing to worry about hurting one another. With Wendy... with her, he needed to be gentle and cautious, careful not to bruise her lips or hold her too tightly. But he liked that about being with her.

It would be so much easier if he could just enjoy one without the other, but they were two sides to the coin comprising Stan's needs and desires.

Stan never did tell Wendy that he and Kyle were doing something more than making out; he was too worried that she would consider it sex, even though Kyle said it wasn't. And eventually, they did more than that, and he definitely couldn't tell Wendy _that_.

So he did the only thing left to do and made his decision.

She was heartbroken; but Kyle was ecstatic, though it was obvious he tried to control his glee for Stan's sake. After all, he'd known all along, hadn't he? He knew that when it came down to it, Stan would choose Kyle.

But that didn't mean Stan didn't feel that he needed Wendy.

And so it was Stan's turn to change masks. For Kyle's sake, he had to be the contented boyfriend and best friend, never letting on that he still thought about Wendy from time to time.

Was this what love had truly come to mean for Stan - a split tether? Happiness with Kyle, regret and sorrow with Wendy... But he needed the mask to hide the second tie, because he cared too much about Kyle to let him know how much missing Wendy tore him apart.

Instead of choosing between A and B, right and wrong, _he _was chosen, the wrong between two rights.

A new mask had been handed to him, and he put it on without question. It was the only way he knew how to survive.


End file.
